Millions [Poetry]

fogged, clogged, and bewildered

fogged, clogged, and bewildered

august9twenty18

maybe it's the disease. or maybe it's a case of the heart flutters.

who knows anymore? still drowning in half baked fantasy, almost unwilling to let them seep through the cracks. whispering, it's elementary, back in braided pigtails and innocence.

through inner lecture and a haze of unknown, one sits back for the ride, smiling dreamily and not realizing a single thing right away. place some mist over a heartbeat, and cover a smile that you know nobody will notice, even so.

and yet the mist provides its own intrigue, its own daring nature making eyes check both ways and sigh, because it feels wrong but also slightly pleasant.

who ever prohibited midnight mumbles anyway? the lock on a dead heart must be ill to still be holding tight, it's quite the infection. i guess death is a strict gatekeeper...

mindwanderings during silly love songs aren't crimes, as death chastises. it's all so illogical.

maybe i don't know your color just yet, but i like the words you speak.

more than death could brace for, essentially. blushes will continue to be hidden behind wound off typings and the oddest of phrases.

i'm sure it's a very nice color.

even if i don't want to admit that.